


pluto isn't a planet fucknuts

by circumlocute



Series: These are the Voyages [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Disabled Character, Gen, Long-Distance Relationship, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Space Opera, i don't think so at least?, star trek knowledge not necessary to understand what’s going on, trek canon has been assassinated and i've looted its corpse for valuables
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-16 01:59:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18085241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circumlocute/pseuds/circumlocute
Summary: Karkat joins the crew of the Federation vesselCuriosity,ostensibly as a junior medical officer. But as one of two Alternians in the Federation and the only one who chose to join Starfleet, nothing is ever that simple.“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” -Troll Ray Bradbury, probably.





	pluto isn't a planet fucknuts

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth for a while there! Rest assured, I am back on my bullshit.
> 
> Thanks so much to the biology nerds I know for helping me figure out what’s going on with Karkat and his mutation, I owe you my life.

Karkat looks up at the ship. The USS  _ Curiosity  _ isn’t big by Federation standards--or Alternian ones, for that matter--but it’s still sizable enough to comfortably house a hundred and fifty crewmembers. It’s a little daunting. But if he’d let  _ daunting  _ stop him, he wouldn’t be here in the first fucking place, would he? And if he panicked and found a broom closet somewhere to hyperventilate in, instead of boarding the ship he spent years training to earn a place on, Kanaya would never let him hear the end of it. So he walks over to the security officer standing in front of the boarding ramp and clears his throat.

“Doctor Karkat Vantas, Lieutenant junior grade, requesting permission to board.”

The security officer looks down at him, glancing over at the PADD in her hand to make sure he’s who he says he is. Not like it’s exactly hard to pick the only Alternian in Starfleet out of a crowd, but the Fleet sure does love its regulations.

After a second, she nods. “Permission granted. Welcome aboard, Doctor.”

Karkat climbs the ramp leading up and into the  _ Curiosity’s  _ cargo bay, trying to ignore his heart hammering in his chest. It’s just a hundred and fifty people. Whose lives and health he will be directly responsible for. 

God. 

The Captain—Rose Lalonde—is waiting for him at the top of the ramp, hands clasped behind her back. 

“Welcome aboard,” she says, smiling politely at him. “I hope the trip to the space station was pleasant?”

Karkat shrugs, trying to assess her without seeming too obviously wary. Humans don’t like it when you blatantly scope them out as potential enemies. “It was a shuttle ride from Earth, sir. Nothing spectacular about it either way.”

Captain Lalonde nods and turns around, gesturing for him to follow. “Then we can get right into the tour, if you’ll follow me.”

Karkat nods and falls into step behind her, glancing around the ship as they go. He doesn’t know much about Captain Lalonde, outside of a medical standpoint. He knows she’s a lot harder on people smuggling liquor onboard than other captains. But he doesn’t know what she’s like as a  _ person.  _ How she handles command. How she’ll react to having Karkat, out of all the possible candidates, as her newest medical officer. 

“This is, obviously, the cargo bay. We store our cargo here.”

Karkat snorts. “You don’t say.”

“I know, it’s all extremely titillating. We’ll head to engineering next, introduce you to everyone there, and visit the various departments as we make our way around. We’ll be a bit more thorough with the visit to Sickbay, make sure you’re familiar with the layout here and introduce you to your commanding officer. After that, I’ll give you a tour of the bridge and show you to your quarters. By then your things should be in your room.”

Karkat nods, again. He never did learn when not to run his fucking mouth, but there’s honestly not a lot to say. He’s busy taking in the details of the starship that’s going to be his home for the foreseeable future. Out on the border of Federation space, with a hundred and forty-nine strangers, for months on end.

He spins the jade ring on his pinky finger and tries to ignore the way his throat suddenly feels tight. 

 

* * *

 

Engineering is...weird. Well. Engineering  _ itself  _ is bog fucking standard as far as a Fleet starship is. The warp core pulses with eerie blue light, a surreal inorganic alternative to the Empire’s helming techniques. Not that Karkat ever actually  _ saw  _ a Helmsblock, outside of movies, but still. Inside the Federation, there’s nothing unusual about the warp core. It’s not even malfunctioning.

The hushed whispers and poorly-concealed stares he’s getting aren’t what’s weird, either. It would be more unusual if no one reacted to the Alternian running around in a Starfleet uniform. They  _ are  _ at war, after all. Karkat’s spent twelve fucking years of his life proving he wasn’t going to run back to the Empire, but—whatever. He’s used to it. 

No, what’s unusual is the fucking dog-woman literally barking instructions at the engineers. Her long black hair is done up in a messy bun, and poking out from it are two fuzzy white ears. 

Theoretically, Karkat knew all this already. Lieutenant Commander Jade Harley, head of engineering. Apparently, she’d had a transporter accident with her dog during an ill-advised experiment and ended up like this. That kind of shit made her file one of the more memorable ones he’d skimmed, but reading about it in her file was an entirely different thing from watching her tail—she has a  _ tail  _ —start wagging as soon as she catches sight of Lalonde. 

“Captain!” Harley beams, turning the full force of her grin towards Karkat. “We’re just getting started with maintenance, but everything is looking shipshape so far. Are you showing the new meat around?” 

He grimaces. Captain Lalonde laughs quietly and steps to the side, turning slightly towards him. 

“Yes, I am.” She nods at them both. “Commander Harley, this is Doctor Vantas. Do try not to pulverize him too thoroughly.”

“Oh please,” Karkat grumbles, “I do not  _ pulverize.”  _

Harley throws her head back with laughter, holding her hand out to shake once she recovers. Somewhat begrudgingly, he notes that at least her grip is firm. You know, for a human. Mostly-human. Whatever. 

“It’s good to have you onboard, Doctor.” Her left ear twitches. It’s  _ almost  _ where horns would be, on a troll. It’s incredibly uncanny. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Thanks.” Karkat tries not to make too much of a face.  _ Everyone’s  _ heard of him, he’s one of two Alternians in the entire fucking Federation and the only one in the Fleet. Of course she’s heard of him. Past Karkat would have loved this kind of thing, all the positive attention. Past Karkat was such a stupid piece of shit. 

They talk for a little more, just mindless nonsense. Being a member of the Fleet involves so much more mindless nonsense and nodding and “yes, sir”s than the glitzy recruitment holovids ever show. But eventually, Lalonde does free him from small talk purgatory, continuing along to the next stop on the tour. Thank fuck. 

“I’ll show you the recreation deck next,” she says, walking briskly towards the turbolift. “This ship is small enough that the mess hall, holodeck, and recreation room are all on the same level. You’ll need to book holodeck time in advance, though, I’m afraid. It’s an awfully popular locale.”

Karkat snorts. He has less than zero interest in running around on the holodeck. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

* * *

 

The ship is fairly small, but it still takes longer than Karkat expected to tour the ship. He’s been walking around and gritting his teeth through polite small talk for over an hour now, and it’s starting to get to him. They haven’t even toured Sickbay yet. 

When Captain Lalonde leads him into the turbolift again, Karkat tries to sag against the wall as subtly as possible. He just needs...a fucking second, okay. One second that isn’t standing around or walking around or jogging to keep pace with this madwoman of a captain. She’s not even that much taller than him. Why does she walk so fucking fast. 

She notices, because of course she does. The universe can’t stop dumping steaming loads of shit onto Karkat for one goddamn second, lest he start to think he might  _ actually  _ catch a break one of these days. 

“Are you all right?”

He straightens back up, ignoring the ache in his chest, and nods. “I’m fine, Captain. Won’t happen again.”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “You are aware there are no accolades for pointlessly exhausting yourself, yes? I was briefed on the complications arising from your…”

Forgetting where he is and who he’s talking to, Karkat makes a derisive noise and rolls his eyes. “You can say mutation.”

“I was going to say condition,” Captain Lalonde says. 

“Well, don’t,” he snaps, bracing himself for a reprimand that doesn’t come.

The turbolift comes to a halt and they both step out of it, but she doesn’t lead him anywhere. He hates that it’s actually helping him catch his breath. The last thing Karkat needs is  _ pity  _ from his commanding officer. It’s worse than the fucks who’re scared of him. At least he can  _ use  _ the intimidation. 

“As I was saying,” Lalonde continues, “I was briefed on your...mutation, as soon as you were assigned to my ship, Doctor. I admit I was being overzealous with the pace I set, but there is no punishment here for asking for accommodations.” 

“With all due respect, Captain,” Karkat says, trying and mostly succeeding at keeping the annoyance out of his voice, “I don’t need accommodations. I’m not going to pass out on your floor.”

Lalonde makes a thoughtful noise. “I wonder how you’d react to one of your patients saying that?” 

Karkat growls under his breath, but—ugh. She has a point, and judging by the upward quirk of her mouth, she fucking knows it, too. 

“Fine.” He inclines his head at the hall, towards where he assumes Sickbay is. “A chair or stool or something would be. Nice. I guess. Once we’re not loitering around in a walkway accomplishing nothing, I mean.” 

Captain Lalonde nods and turns around, setting off down the hall. Karkat notices—begrudgingly—that she’s slowed her pace somewhat. It helps, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy about it. 

“I’ll have you know, a captain never loiters on her own ship.”

Karkat scoffs before he can think better of it. “I would beg to differ, sir.”

Lalonde’s smile widens almost imperceptibly at that, the corners of her eyes wrinkling with amusement.

 

She is really nothing like what he was expecting. 

 

When they get to medbay, Karkat expects to be made to sit on a biobed, as if needing to rest just from walking around wasn’t fucking shameful enough. But Captain Lalonde turns to the nurse on duty, clearing her throat to get his attention. 

“Would you get Doctor Vantas here a seat, please?”

The nurse nods and disappears behind a wall, likely heading towards the office. He returns a few moments later, chair held aloft to avoid ramming it into the biobeds. Following behind him is a woman with short black hair and red-rimmed glasses. 

“Ah! Captain. Goodness, I wondered who was making off with my furniture. You’re a bit later than I was expecting.” 

The nurse sets down the chair, going back to whatever it is he was doing, and Karkat tries not to look too pathetic as he sinks down into it. He really  _ might  _ have passed out on Lalonde’s floor, if he’d had to finish the tour without a break. Shit. 

“Yes, well, you know punctuality was never one of my strong suits.” Lalonde shrugs, not bashful in the slightest. “Anyway, Doctor Crocker, this is Doctor Vantas. Vantas, Crocker. She’s our Chief Medical Officer. You’ll be working directly under her while you serve aboard the  _ Curiosity.”  _

Karkat nods, touching two fingers to his forehead in a salute. Crocker smiles at him and inclines her head. 

“It’s a pleasure to have you with us,” she says, “I run a tight ship, but I’m sure you’re more than up for the task.”

Panic briefly spikes in Karkat’s gut as he considers the possible ways he could respond to that. He doesn’t want to sound like a cocky fuck with his head terminally rammed up his ass, and he  _ definitely  _ doesn’t want to sound like an incompetent piece of shit. 

“Yes, sir, you can count on me.” Ugh, at least spouting canned garbage is better than his other options. Marginally. Maybe.

Crocker details where everything is located and how she'd like Sickbay to be managed while he's on duty. Afterwards, oh joy, there is yet more god damn motherfucking small talk. At this point, Karkat almost wishes he  _ had  _ passed out, just so he could skip sitting and talking about inconsequential bullshit for way too damn long.  _ Humans.  _ It could, maybe, possibly also be because Lalonde’s trying to give him enough time to catch his breath, but--eugh. For the sake of his ego, he’s going to choose to believe it’s because humans have a species-wide fondness for pointless chatter. And it’s not like he doesn’t have a wealth of evidence backing this theory! Humans love to run their fucking mouths. So does Karkat, sure, but it’s just as annoying when he does it. 

Lalonde does eventually release him from pointless chit-chat limbo, and they start to make their way towards the bridge. At a slower pace that Karkat is going to pretend not to notice. It gives him a chance to really look at the ship that’s going to be his home, at least. The  _ Curiosity  _ feels...sterile, and not just inside the confines of Sickbay. Every corridor is clean, precise lines and crisp edges with no room or allowance for clutter. Karkat likes his space to be neat, but fuck. The Academy really wasn’t exaggerating how strictly maintained a starship is. In space, there’s no room for excess. It’s unsettling. 

Karkat misses the bright colors and obnoxious abstract disaster that is Kanaya’s interior decorating. It almost makes him wish he’d taken one of her plants onboard to keep in his quarters, even though he knows he’d just fuck up and kill it in a week. At least it’d be  _ something.  _

While they’re in the equally-sterile and brightly lit turbolift, Lalonde’s combadge chirps, informing her that the ship’s routine maintenance is complete, the cargo is loaded, and they’ve been cleared to leave the space station. 

Lalonde acknowledges them and turns to Karkat. “I’m afraid we’ll have to briefly pause the tour once we reach the bridge, but it shouldn’t take terribly long at all. I hope you don’t mind.”

Karkat shrugs. “I’m sure I could find my quarters on my own, Captain. That’s the only place left, isn’t it?” It would certainly make him less antsy than standing on the bridge like a useless fuck while everyone else is doing their jobs. 

“I’d really like to escort you there myself, actually. It wouldn’t do to abandon the tour part way through, would it?” Captain Lalonde’s smile is all teeth. 

At first, Karkat thinks maybe she doesn’t trust him alone on her ship. But that—ugh, that doesn’t make sense. Even if she  _ was  _ one of the assholes who doesn’t respect that he’s spent years proving his loyalty to the Federation, over and fucking over, it’s just not  _ possible  _ for her to follow him around the ship. A captain’s job doesn’t really leave room for her to babysit any one crewmember. 

The fact that she’s insisting on having him on the bridge for some unknown reason isn’t any more comforting, though. He’s not going to outright  _ say  _ shit to her; he’s a belligerent asshole, but he’s not an idiot. He’ll just. Try not to have a panic attack on her bridge. 

“Yes, Captain,” Karkat says, nodding deferentially at her in that way humans like, even though it makes him point his horns at her. He might not have the kind of rack that could gore someone, but he’s been told he gives a mean headbutt. 

The turbolift comes to a halt and they both step out, into an array of display screens and lights so bright Karkat instinctively flinches. Fucking diurnal species with suns that won’t roast them to a crisp. 

“Captain on the bridge!” Someone calls out. Karkat squints through the absurd brightness, and they—he—comes into focus. 

He’s a Vulcan, judging by the pointed ears and upswept eyebrows, but he’s incredibly pale for one. White hair, pasty greenish skin—oh. Karkat realizes who this is just before Lalonde has the chance to introduce him. 

“Doctor Vantas, this is Lieutenant Dave Strider. He’s the  _ Curiosity’s  _ communications officer.” She smiles at Strider, the expression more warm than Karkat’s seen out of her all day. 

He suspects that’s because Lieutenant Strider is Captain Lalonde’s half-brother. Having him serve on her ship...it’s not protocol, but what little Karkat knows about it seems to imply it’s just one of those things everyone knows about but no one acknowledges. Not like  _ he’s  _ going to be the dumb motherfucker to point it out. Aside from that, most of what Karkat knows about Strider is medical; he’s almost as unusual as Harley in that respect. He’s half-Vulcan, half-human, with all the medical complications and careful monitoring that entails, but he’s hardly the first hybrid born from those species. On top of that, he’s albinistic—which explains the paleness and the sunglasses he’s wearing while on duty. Karkat can’t blame him. The bridge is too damn bright even for someone who  _ isn’t  _ photophobic. 

“Sup,” Strider says, getting up out of his seat to greet him, and,  _ oh,  _ Karkat hates him already. Not only is that a ridiculously causal way to greet a crewman, this piece of shit is  _ tall.  _ Not as tall as Kanaya, probably kind of short by Vulcan standards, but still taller than Karkat by at least a foot. The fucking audacity. 

“Nothing is  _ sup,  _ that barely even deserves the dignity of a response,” Karkat snaps, realizing an instant later that Lalonde is still standing right next to him. He has  _ got  _ to stop running his fucking mouth. It’s going to get him court-martialed and/or punched. 

But Dave just laughs, this quiet puff of breath; it would be guffawing from any other species, Karkat’s sure. It’s weird seeing even  _ that  _ much emotion from a Vulcan, but—maybe it’s his human side or something. Lalonde smirks, the tiniest upward quirk of her lips, and Karkat feels himself relax almost imperceptibly. Okay. The weirdo siblings that outrank him don’t vehemently hate when he says shit like that. It’s a little surreal, given what Karkat knows of the Imperial Fleet and how they’d handle lowblood scum speaking out of turn, but he’ll take it. 

Lalonde introduces him to the rest of the bridge crew in turn, briskly rattling off names and ranks and vague details about their personal lives, like  _ did you know, so-and-so can play the clarinet?  _ Bluh. Karkat doesn’t fucking care. 

Eventually she finishes off the introductions with her first officer, John Egbert. He’s a pilot who plays the piano in his spare time, blah blah blah.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Doctor,” he says, holding out his hand. No sane person should be grinning  _ that  _ widely over being introduced to Karkat of all people. It’s unsettling, even if Egbert doesn’t have fangs to bare.

“Uh. Likewise.” Karkat shakes his hand and tries not to cringe over how stupid and awkward he sounds.

The Commander’s grip is pretty firm, for a human. Karkat suddenly has a brief, irrational impulse to challenge him to an arm wrestling match. His treatments have helped him bulk out a lot from the scrawny wiggler he was when he fled Alternia, but Egbert looks like he actually  _ works out.  _ Probably better not to embarrass himself on his first day on the job. 

After the standard introductions and pleasantries, Lalonde and Egbert lose interest in him, turning their attention towards leaving the space station. They both take their seats, Egbert apparently at the helm. At least Lalonde sits in the Captain’s chair where she belongs.

While they go about giving orders and confirming with the space station that they’re cleared to leave, Karkat tries to ignore the lingering glances he’s getting and shifts uncomfortably. He fucking _hates_ standing around like a useless piece of shit. If she’d let him go to his quarters or to Sickbay he could at least be doing _something_ while he’s being gawked at, but oh no, Lalonde has to swing her metaphorical bulge around. 

...It is kind of impressive to watch through the viewport as the  _ Curiosity  _ glides out of its dock and into open space, leaving the station behind. But like hell is he ever going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. 

Lalonde chats amiably with the bridge crew as John steers them away from the space station. Lalonde  _ continues  _ to chat amiably with the bridge crew as she takes them to warp, rattling off coordinates for whatever section of empty space they’ll be stuck in. Once she starts to stroll around the bridge, peering over her officer’s shoulders and giving instructions, Karkat decides she’s forgotten he’s there. Either that, or it’s some kind of power play to see how long he’ll stand around like a moron before he dares question her. The outcome is the same either way, isn’t it?

After what feels like a thousand years, she glances up from the conn, locking eyes with Karkat and smirking. He’s starting to think “smug” is her default expression.

“Doctor, if you and Lieutenant Strider would join me in my ready room for a moment, please?”

Oh, god. Karkat stamps down on the irrational, anxious fear that this is it, the Academy was all an elaborate ruse and now Lalonde and her obnoxious tall brother are going to toss him out of an airlock.

“Yes, sir.”

Strider gets out of his seat and follows along at a leisurely pace. It’s such an obvious affectation it makes Karkat’s eyelid twitch. He’s tall enough to outpace them both, what kind of douche deliberately moseys along like that? Ugh. 

Captain Lalonde leads them into her ready room and takes a seat at her desk, nodding towards the two chairs in front of it. Karkat sits down like a normal person who understands the chain of command, but Strider decides to sit on her desk like a poorly-trained dog. 

“Off,” Lalonde says with entirely too much cheer, absently swatting at him. It’s not helping the dog impression. Strider goes without much fuss, settling down in his chair and glancing sidelong at Karkat. Lalonde clears her throat, suddenly all seriousness.

“Lieutenant, Doctor, I’m sure you were both briefed on the details of your duties on this ship, yes?”

Oh. Oh, shit. Karkat nods, swallowing. He’d been briefed, and he’d agreed to do this, but--but he’d taken the information and filed it away somewhere in the back of his mind where he didn’t have to think about it. Starfleet already feels unreal as it is. He hasn’t had time to process it all.

“Excellent. I’m going to run over this one more time, gentlemen, because this is not a mission we can afford to cock up, as it were.” Lalonde picks up a PADD, entering her access code and scrolling through the text. “As we all know, Karkat is the only Alternian in the Fleet.”

They both nod. More like the only Alternian they had enough leverage over, but--whatever. Semantics.

“This means you are rather a  _ unique  _ asset in our search for peace.” The Captain clears her throat and glances up at the both of them. “The Alternian language bears little similarity to anything spoken in the Federation, and this has made translating their communications more difficult than anticipated. Vantas, we need you to provide your perspective as a native speaker to aid in our translation and decryption efforts. What information you and your partner have given us already has been valuable, certainly, but that’s nothing like getting up close and personal with it, hmm?” 

Karkat swallows. He--he has no love left for the Empire, but the people living in it? His  _ friends?  _ He can’t just forget about them, about the years he spent on Alternia, the culture he left behind, and the people who risked culling to help get him offplanet. He’d joined Starfleet because he wanted to help end the war, to make himself useful, but he’s trained in medicine, not fucking  _ espionage.  _ There’s a difference between healing plasma burns and  _ spying on his own people.  _

Not that he has a lot of other options, at this point. 

Kanaya’s a refugee too, just like him. Karkat has the dubious privilege of being a Starfleet officer, of being more directly under their command, but Kanaya relies on the grace of the Federation just the same. If he said no, what would happen to her? They could point to their moirallegiance as evidence that she’s a liability, take away everything she’s worked so hard to earn. 

 

He can’t do that to her.

 

“Of course, sir,” Karkat says, ducking his head.

“And Lieutenant, I’m sure you understand the gravity of this mission.”

“Yes, Captain.” Strider nods, glancing over at Karkat again. What the fuck is his problem? If Karkat has to deal with  _ more  _ people questioning his loyalty, he will--he’ll fucking eat Lalonde’s desk and shit splinters all over her bridge. 

“Every day, at the end of your duty shifts, you two will rendezvous--we have a room set up on deck three with all the privacy and equipment this will require--and work on building a linguistic database or translating any messages we’ve intercepted.”

“Yes, Captain,” they say in unison.

“I don’t know how many we’ll be directly tasked with decoding, Doctor, since we’re far from the only people working on this particular endeavor, but--”

“Yes, sir, obviously, sir,” Karkat mutters.

Lalonde snorts. “As I was saying, ah. What we’re looking for is a direct translation of the messages from a native speaker, someone who can explain idioms and turns of phrase that we might not understand. Once we’ve built a more solid foundation, our brightest minds can focus on decryption without having to muddle through a language with ten sets of personal pronouns.”

“Fifteen,” Karkat says, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “One for each caste, and then one for addressing equals, one for nonspecific higher-blooded, one for nonspecific lower-blooded, and one for animals, objects, and mutants. It’s fifteen. Captain.”

Strider is looking at him like he just told him he won the Miss Universe pageant. Karkat can  _ feel  _ the sparkle eyes he’s making behind the shades. On a ship full of nerds, he’s stuck working with the nerdiest nerd of all. Great.

“See,” Lalonde says, arching one eyebrow. “We’re already learning so much from you.”

She gives them each a little more information--how much of their duty shifts this might eat into, some notes on how she’d like the data filed, things like that. She and Strider keep bantering back and forth, little quips and teasing jabs between more serious discussion. Human familial bonds are so fucking weird. At least it doesn’t seem to be interfering with their ability to work, but holy shit. If they were moirails he’d be telling them to get a pile so he doesn’t have to watch.

A lot of the information Lalonde’s giving them is stuff Karkat already heard before, but the repetition is...helpful. He was more than a little shell-shocked when he was pulled out of class into a conference with  _ a fucking admiral,  _ so. Yeah. It’s useful to hear this shit a second time, without his heart hammering in his ears. 

“And, lastly…” Lalonde locks her PADD, setting it inside a desk drawer and glancing back up at the two of them. “I’m sure this is fairly obvious, but this isn’t something you’ll be discussing with anyone else. Let’s keep it strictly to the senior staff, please?”

“Yes, sir,” Karkat says.

“Of course, Captain,” Strider agrees. 

Lalonde rises to her feet, waiting for both of them to follow suit. “Well, in that case, we’d best finish up that tour. Lieutenant, you’re dismissed, thank you.”

“You got it, Rosie.” The way he says it is weirdly flat, missing even the usual human indicators for sarcasm. Karkat can’t tell if he’s trying to joke or...what.  _ Vulcans.  _

“Call me that in front of a crewmember again and I will have you court-martialed,” Lalonde says brightly, all but shoving him out of her ready room.

Once Dave goes back to his station, she shows Karkat to his room without much fanfare, pointing out this or that inane detail as they walk. It makes him wonder if the tour was all just an elaborate, extended ruse to get him into her ready room without drawing attention. It wouldn’t be  _ that  _ weird to call a new crewmember in for a briefing, but maybe she’s just being extra cautious. Or maybe Karkat’s just overthinking everything, like usual.

At any rate, it’s a relief to be left alone in his quarters. Fucking  _ finally.  _ His shit is in boxes, stacked neatly in the floor, and it’s going to be  _ such  _ a pain in the ass to unpack it all, but he’s here. He made it. 

Karkat walks around his quarters, taking stock. They’re...definitely nicer than what he’d heard of Imperial ships, and they’re bigger than his dorm in the Acadamy.  _ And  _ it’s all his. It’s no highblood suite, but he’s not going to complain. 

There’s a living area with shelf space for his novels, a desk, and an armchair that doesn’t look wildly uncomfortable. Next to it, there’s a dining space with a replicator tucked into one corner. On the opposite wall is a door leading to the bedroom and bathroom. He’s been sharing a shower with another cadet for years now, so even the tiny bathroom is an upgrade. The bedroom isn’t very spacious either, but that’s not surprising. These quarters weren’t built to accommodate recuperacoons. His ‘cupe, full of the Federation’s subpar clear sopor substitute, is up against one wall, with a bed crammed against the opposite corner. 

 

Home sweet home.

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, he’s in a call with Kanaya, video chatting on the monitor attached to his new desk. Shit’s been crazy for her, too. She’s trying to move to Vulcan; the sun and heat there is better for her mood. He knows it’s for the best, but the sight of the unfamiliar room behind her still makes Karkat’s chest hurt. They haven’t been more than a few minutes’ travel away from each other since they left Alternia.

“Karkat?” Kanaya says, tapping the monitor with a clawtip like she thinks that’s going to do anything. “Are you in there?”

“What? No, sorry, you’ve reached his empty husk, you’ll have to leave a message.”

“Well, Mr. Husk, tell him I asked how his first day on duty went.”

Karkat snorts. “It was...weird. The Captain gave me a tour.”

“Is that all?” Kanaya arches one perfectly-drawn eyebrow. “At least it sounds like it wasn’t terribly stressful.”

Karkat pauses, thinking of the meeting and what he and Strider are going to be working on together. Moirails are supposed to share everything, especially in times like this when they can’t be physically close. Emotional intimacy is all they have. 

He swallows.

“That’s all.”


End file.
